


There Are Words I Want to Shout (But Maybe I'll Stay Low)

by quitepossiblyjanuary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I Love You, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitepossiblyjanuary/pseuds/quitepossiblyjanuary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are three types of love according to Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Are Words I Want to Shout (But Maybe I'll Stay Low)

**Author's Note:**

> [Title is from "Quiet" by Lights]  
> This is something I wrote because I was sitting behind my laptop and it sort of just... appeared? I don't know. I was intending to write some smut but this came out instead. The world works in mysterious ways.

There are three types of love according to Sam Winchester.

The first is the kind you get when your idiot brother pulls some sort of unintentional snide comment that makes you feel a lot worse than it should and then realizes his mistake, thus deciding to compensate with a beer and his own special way of saying ‘sorry’, which entails lots of uncomfortably exchanged banter and a tight smile that doesn’t look quite right on his face. Sam always accepts the apology, because Dean floundering for a good metaphor for ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to say that’ is something that would even make the emotionally blind and deaf man uncomfortable.

The second is the kind you get when there’s an angel at your side laughing uncontrollably about a stupid joke only an eighth grader would find so funny, but Sam supposes Gabriel is young at heart.

This kind is warm and fond, and flutters slightly when it blossoms in Sam’s chest at the sight of Gabriel leaning tiredly against his shoulder, still hiccupping slightly from his previously unstoppable laughter. It’s heavy in the pit of Sam’s stomach, sits like a cup of coffee that was just a twinge too hot, but feels nice anyway.

The third kind is the one that creeps up slowly from behind and seizes you in a moment that seems anything but opportune. It’s the kind that resides in the dimples of someone’s back and only comes out to clamp you and your mind in a hazy fog when said dimples appear. And of course it’s at a bad time -- Sam is kind of _in the middle of something_ and by _something_ he means teasing the patience and the cockiness out of his angel until Gabriel’s just a mess of begging and whimpering and a very human type of filthy that angels can’t usually manage.

“Gabriel,” Sam says, his voice tied up with a sudden type of realization that makes the archangel beneath him turn, curious as to what is making his Winchester become so aware, and so suddenly, at that, “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel breathes, and judging by his expression that was supposed to come out as a question. “I-- Sam--,” Gabriel whines, like he needs more of Sam’s attention. As if he didn’t have all of it already. “I love you too.”

The smile is barely there -- you’d have to know where to look if you wanted to see it -- when Gabriel cranes his neck up to bite softly at the tip of Sam’s nose. It’s a playful gesture he recognizes as one of Gabriel’s tactics to lighten the mood when he deems it a bit too _much_ for his liking. Sam doesn’t mind. It fits into their little unconsciousness, their little numbness of the happenings around them.

He keeps that in mind for the rest of the night, keeps it in mind as they toss ‘ _I love you_ ’s back and forth as if they’d been saying it for years, and it never loses its meaning. Not once.

**Author's Note:**

> This probably doesn't make any sense to anyone except me, but I hope you enjoyed this sickeningly most likely out-of-character fluffiness


End file.
